Furnaces of Forge (The Land's Tale) (2 page)

Jakob looked at the two Muddles. The last time he had seen Crimson, she had looked like any other firefighter. Now she was part firefighter, part surfer and part jester. And Grunge had looked like any other rock musician. But now he was part musician, part nurse and part . . .? Oh yes, that’s right. Slight, Muddlemarsh’s magician, always wore a very smart dinner suit and black dress shoes.

Grunge smiled at Jakob. ‘Hi, Jakob. Wicked tram!’

Again Jakob gave a small bow of his head. ‘I’m glad you like it.’ He looked at the passenger sitting on the floor beside Grunge’s feet. ‘I don’t believe I’ve met your other companion. It is rare to see a bear on a tram in Forge. Especially one of such a . . . configuration. May I hazard a guess? Could this be the famous Miniver?’

‘Well, mostly it’s her,’ laughed Grunge.

Miniver looked askance at Jakob. ‘Configuration?’ she growled. ‘What is he implying?’ She looked down. True, her furry brown body and forelegs had been replaced by the tan, black and white breast and wings of an eagle, and her haunches and hind legs were now those usually found on a meerkat, but, all things considered, Miniver thought she looked pretty good.

‘From the sound of her growls I have said something to upset her.’ Jakob politely bowed his head in Miniver’s direction. ‘I apologise, Miniver, if I have caused offence. It is the first time I’ve seen the Muddles – what do you call it? – mix, I believe. And I would never dream of insulting the three heroes of Muddlemarsh who helped overcome the blue fire.’

Crimson and Grunge exchanged embarrassed glances. None of them felt like heroes. Their adventure in the High Mountains was just something they had been part of. They hadn’t felt heroic on the journey and certainly not since. And, at that moment, they definitely looked more odd than heroic.

The tram’s bell clanged. ‘Forge centre!’ yelled the conductor. Jakob rose. Crimson, Grunge and Miniver made to stand as the tram slowed.

‘Are you going to Achillia’s office?’ asked Jakob. ‘Then may I suggest that you stay on the tram two minutes more until the next stop. You’ll find that closer.’

The tram stopped and Jakob raised his hat to the Muddles. ‘Good day to you. It’s been an honour to meet you again.’ And he stepped off the tram.

‘Nice man,’ Miniver growled. ‘But strange.’

≈

‘It’ll explode.’

‘No it won’t,’ said a muffled voice.

‘Yes it will. It’ll explode,’ Cres said again. She sighed. ‘Big time.’

Touch’s head appeared from inside the huge furnace. Patches of black soot marked his face. He held a long screwdriver in his right hand and he waved it proudly at his friend. ‘I adjusted the arterial precompression entropy tappets. That’ll fix it.’ He wiped his face on the sleeve of his overalls. ‘Go on, push the button.’

Cres shook her head doubtfully. ‘Still won’t work. The aperture on the combustion chamber is too narrow. With the extra pressure . . .’ Her voice trailed off and she sounded glum. ‘It’ll explode and we’ll be in big trouble. Seriously big trouble. They might even take away our kits this time. For good.’ She sighed again. ‘We’ll be the only engineers in the history of Myrmidia who had their toolkits taken away.’

Touch’s smile broadened. ‘We’re not engineers yet. We’re apprentices. But if it does work, we’ll be famous! They might even give us our own workshop!’

‘Yoe say that every time. But we always get the twisty end of the drill. Something always goes wrong. And remember how angry Beatrice was last time.’

Touch scowled at the memory. ‘Well, this time she’ll have to eat her words. Fancy calling us Muddles. A pair of Muddle engineers. That was unfair. That cut me deeply.’

Cres nodded her agreement. That had hurt. Muddles, indeed! Touch was right. They had to do something to make Beatrice eat her words. No matter how hard Cres tried, though, she couldn’t picture it. And if something went wrong again they’d be in real trouble. And something, somehow, always went wrong. ‘Maybe if we try it on something smaller first. You know, like a bread oven . . .’ she ventured.

‘Why think small? Think small, be small! Big ideas –’

‘Big trouble?’ suggested Cres.

‘. . . work best!’ Touch stepped away from the furnace and spread his arms wide. ‘This will get us noticed!’ He turned and grinned excitedly at his friend. ‘We can double – triple! – the power of the factories. With our new fuel valve, this factory will produce more than ever before. We’ll be the greatest engineers in Myrmidia! Heroes of industry – that’s what they’ll call us. Now, go on, Cres. Push the button.’

≈

Jakob was right. Less than two minutes later the bell clanged and the conductor cried, ‘Forge Town Offices!’ Grunge picked up the large, flat parcel he had slid behind the seat and went with Crimson and Minever to the door. As the door opened there was a crashing boom of a loud explosion. The tram shuddered; its windows rattled and several passengers tumbled to the floor. Grunge and Crimson grabbed hold of the handrails as the carriage rocked sideways. The tram screeched to a stop. The noise of the explosion reverberated through Forge and the ground still trembled as they stepped on to the pavement.

‘What do they make here?’ Miniver asked.

≈

The huge underground cavern that housed the furnace was filled with dust, soot and shards of concrete and rock. The pile of debris that covered the floor rustled and shifted. A hand appeared, then a head, and then a body rose from the rubble. Another body slowly rose next to the first. The two figures shook the dust from their heads and two pairs of eyes opened wide.

‘Hmm,’ said Touch. ‘That didn’t go so well, did it?’

The second head turned and looked about the furnace room. The eyes closed and, with a sigh, Cres lay back among the chaos.

‘Do you think we’re in trouble?’ Touch asked.

≈

Muddles are not a common sight in Myrmidia. Normally, it would be hard to tell a Muddle from a Myrmidot, except there aren’t many Myrmidots dressed as either jesters, pirates, ballerinas or matadors. Certainly there were no Myrmidots who were firefighter, surfer and jester – or rock star, nurse and magician – all at the same time. Crimson and Grunge attracted quite a bit of attention, particularly as they were accompanied by a bear with the body of an eagle and the hindquarters of a meerkat.

Fortunately, Forge Town Offices are very close to the tram stop and the Muddles didn’t have to endure the curiosity of the good citizens of Forge for very long. And a great many of the Myrmidots seemed preoccupied with the explosion that had upset the routine of their town.

When they arrived, the Muddles were escorted to Achillia’s office. The Lord Mayor rose from her desk and greeted them with hugs. Despite their serious and practical nature, Myrmidots are very fond of hugging. Crimson and Grunge introduced Miniver, who also received a hug from Achillia.

‘Oh, you’ve mixed! How charming!’ Achillia cooed, patting Miniver’s head and ruffling her feathers. ‘You didn’t go to all that trouble just for me, I hope?’

‘Ah, well, it just happened on the tram,’ Grunge explained.

‘As good a place as any to happen,’ said Achillia, resuming her seat. ‘It was very sweet of you to come. We’re very touched that you have brought us a gift to commemorate the adventure in the High Mountains.’

Crimson tried not to feel irritated by Achillia’s condescending manner.

‘It will be good to see Copper and Dot again,’ Crimson said pointedly.

‘Of course,’ purred Achillia. ‘They will be here in a minute. We are a little bit at sixes and sevens at the moment. There seems to have been an . . . incident at the factories.’

‘We heard the noise,’ said Grunge. ‘It sounded like an explosion.’

‘Things aren’t always what they seem. But I shouldn’t have to tell that to a Muddle, now, should I?’ Achillia said just a trifle curtly. ‘Myrmidots make things, not blow them up.’

‘Of course, everyone knows Myrmidots . . .’ started Grunge, who really hadn’t meant to offend Achillia, but whatever else he was going to say was lost as the three Muddles once again glowed and shimmered.

Achillia watched, fascinated, as the Mix ended. In a few seconds the glow faded and the Lord Mayor found herself looking at an ordinary fire officer, rock musician and very large but normal brown bear.

‘. . . best engineers in the Land,’ Grunge finished, as if nothing had happened.

‘How interesting,’ Achillia murmured. She was interrupted by a knock on the door. ‘Come,’ she commanded.

The door opened and in walked Copper and Dot. Copper held a small cloth bag and Dot carried a large box. The engineer and his apprentice had accompanied the Muddles on the trip to the High Mountains and they had grown very fond of each other. There were lots of smiles and hugs, especially for Miniver. Dot and Miniver had become very good friends during their adventure. The apprentice had grown from a silent, troubled young girl into a confident and happy one thanks to Miniver’s patience and trust. Although Dot couldn’t understand Miniver’s growls, roars or rumbles, she had spent hour after hour talking to the Muddle bear.

The hugs and greetings over, Achillia sat down in her impressive chair behind her impressive desk.

‘Please’ she said, indicating the visitors’ chairs on the other side of the desk. Miniver sat on the floor next to Dot. ‘Now, who’s going to go first?’

Everyone looked at each other.

‘Go on, Grunge,’ Copper suggested.

Grunge handed the large, flat parcel to Achillia. ‘By our artist, Bristle,’ he explained.

Achillia took a pair of scissors from her desk set. She snipped the string and cut the brown wrapping.

‘Why, it’s . . . it’s lovely!’ she exclaimed, in the sort of voice teachers use when they have to try very hard to be encouraging. She picked up the painting and turned it round for the others to see.

The painting showed the seven companions – Crimson, Grunge, Brian, Aunt Mag, Copper, Dot and Miniver – on their way to the High Mountains to find the blue ice.

‘That’s you on the cart, Dot!’ cried Copper. ‘As if Miniver didn’t have enough hard work pulling the cart without you on top of it!’

Copper and Dot were clearly delighted with the painting. To tell the truth, it didn’t really look like Copper and Dot; and Miniver was rather thin and her ears were too big. But the thought does truly count for more than we sometimes care to remember. And, in any case, for anyone who really knew Muddles, the last thing they would expect would be for a Muddle artist to be able to paint.

‘We all agreed that there was no better place to hang it than Forge’s council building,’ put in Crimson.

‘We are very grateful. We will have to think hard about where to hang it. We should like to do it justice,’ said Achillia thoughtfully. ‘Now, we have something for Home’s library. After all, it was there that you uncovered the existence of the blue ice.’ Achillia held out her hand. ‘Copper?’

Copper reached into his bag and took out a large, leather-bound book. He handed it to Achillia.

‘This is an account of the journey, written by Copper and Dot. You can put it in your library, next to The Book of Meddle.’ Achillia riffled the pages. ‘Very thorough, Copper. Maps, sketches . . . Good work.’ She handed the book to Grunge. ‘We know you will look after it but, just in case, I believe Copper has made a copy for our records.’

Copper took out another book, exactly like the first, and placed it on Achillia’s desk.

Grunge looked at the book in his hand. It was beautifully bound and gave off the smell of leather, paper and glue. ‘Thank you, Achillia. We shall make sure that this story is not forgotten. And I’m sure Patch will read it so that he has more stories to tell.’ He smiled at Copper and Dot. ‘Thank you, both of you.’

Achillia turned to Crimson.

‘Now, I believe that Dot has something for you, Crimson.’

‘For saving my life at the river,’ said Dot, handing the box to the firefighter.

Crimson blushed. ‘You didn’t have to give me anything, Dot. I don’t know what to say!’

‘Open it, and then you might think of something to say,’ Copper chuckled.

Crimson opened the box. On the top was piece of polished wood. It had been hinged, so that it folded like a board game. Underneath were five spinning tops decorated with pictures of couples dancing. Crimson opened out the wood and placed in on Achillia’s desk.

‘A dance floor!’ Grunge exclaimed.

‘Spin them,’ urged Dot.

Crimson took out the first top, placed it on the polished wood and pumped the handle. The figures blurred, then reappeared and began to dance. Music came from the top, in perfect rhythm to the dancing figures.

Crimson set the second top spinning. ‘Do the others,’ she said to her friends.

Soon the five tops were spinning and weaving around each other on the dance floor. Each top played the same tune and on each top the figures danced to the tune.

‘These are wonderful!’ said Crimson. She gave Dot a hug. ‘You’re so clever!’

It was Dot’s turn to blush. ‘They can play four tunes,’ she said. She moved a small metal slider on the edge of each of the tops and once again sent them spinning. This time, they played a different tune with a different rhythm and again the dancing figures kept time with the music.

‘Don’t ask her how they work,’ said Copper. ‘She’ll spend all day explaining!’ And he beamed proudly at his apprentice.

‘Thank you, Dot,’ said Crimson. ‘Thank you.’

There was a sharp knock. The door opened and Beatrice stood in the doorway.

‘I have them,’ she announced.

Achillia nodded. ‘I’ll see them in your office, Beatrice, when I’m finished here.’ Her assistant turned to leave. ‘Oh, Beatrice, once you’ve deposited your charges in your office, would you please tell the attendant we are ready for our coffee and cake? And it would be nice if you could join us.’

‘Certainly,’ said Beatrice, closing the door behind her.

‘Some troublesome apprentices, I’m afraid,’ Achillia sighed. She forced a smile on her face. ‘I’ll let them stew for a while,’ she continued brightly ‘They need a very good lesson, the pair of them.’

≈

‘Sit,’ ordered Beatrice. She pointed to two hard-looking chairs against the wall.